


End of the Line

by Team_Free_Tardis_Deduction



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, Canon, Captain America - Freeform, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Childhood, Civil War, Civil War (Marvel), Drabble, Fan - Freeform, Fandom, Fanfic, Fanfiction, Fangirl, Feels, I'm with you 'til the end of the line, M/M, Marvel Universe, Modern Day, Multi, One-Shot, Post-Serum, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Canon, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Quote: I'm with you 'til the end of the line, Sad, Ship, Spoilers, Stucky - Freeform, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Wartime, canon AU, gay ship, mcu - Freeform, otp, stevebucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:20:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5320235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Free_Tardis_Deduction/pseuds/Team_Free_Tardis_Deduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've always been with each other.<br/>Always.<br/>'Til the end of the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of the Line

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've been hit with a mass of revived Stucky feels following the release of the Civil War trailer ;_;  
> This is my weird way of working through all the pain. I'm not sure if it's worked, but it was a good way to pass the time...

Beside the train track that winds for an eternity through the heart of the city of dreams two small schoolboys run free. One is much scrawnier than his counterpart; sickly thin with a pinched face and tousled blond hair plastered to his forehead by sweat and the grime of soot. The other is chunkier, taller, stronger. He has dark hair that curls slightly and a rounded face, big blue eyes wide and bright. A defiant smear of dirt clings to the taller boy's nose, causing him to appear rugged and unkept.  
"Race you to the end of the line?" He calls, skipping down the path and pointing at the railway.  
He friend pants with an effort to keep up. "Yeah, alright."  
"First one to the end gets first dibs on the candies."  
"Hey, no fair! You always win, Bucky."  
The taller boy- Bucky- shoots his partner a sly grin. "Like that's ever stopped you before, Stevie." And without warning he takes off, leaving his friend wheezing in the dust of his wake, calling empty insults at him as he struggles to keep up.   
With the wind in their hair and childish grins dimpling their cheeks, the two boys run through their childhood, leaving 1927 in the dust and the end of the line in the horizon.

* * *

 

Everyone seems to have ingested copious quantities of growth hormones over the summer. Everyone, that is, but Steve.  
"All talk, aren'tcha, Rogers." Billy, an orange-haired, freckle-faced neighbourhood tyrant sneers, cracking his knuckles against Steve's already streaming nose.  
"I wasn't gonna let you torment those girls, Billy. Enough's enough when they say it is."  
Billy spits at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe up to spray dirt into Steve's eyes, then kneeing him hard in the stomach. "God, I forget how moralistic you are, Rogers, you bug." A palm claps around his ear, momentarily deafening the skinny boy.  
"Yeah, well, someone outta be, Billy. And that someone sure as hell ain't you."  
"Aw, shove it up you're-" Billy's jeer is abruptly cut off when a strong arm snakes it's way around his neck, a hand coming up to brace the side of his head.   
"I wouldn't say that if I were you." A voice growls from behind him and Steve relaxes at the familiarity. "You mess with my pal here and you're messin' with me, William. You don't wanna do that."  
Billy wheezes something that sound like a " _No_."  
"That's what I thought. Now get outta here, the lot of ya." The arm releases Billy and the gang scrambles off, following their leader off down the alleyway.  
Steve pants, the adrenaline leaving him in a rush. Suddenly, he feels weak, standing becoming too difficult instantaneously. His knees wobble and he collapses into the arms of his friend, Bucky's larger frame encircling him.   
"Damn it, Steve. You've gotta stop antagonising them." Bucky scolds.  
"They were.. Being disrespectful." Steve tries to justify himself to Bucky through gasping breathes.  
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you went along picking fights." Bucky plants each of his hands on Steve's shoulders, ducking his head and raising an eyebrow at him, smirking. "Nearly eighteen and still haven't learnt your lesson, huh?"  
"Never." Steve tries to smile, the bruises on his face pinching painfully. "Hey, Buck... Thanks."  
"Don't mention it." Bucky waves it off. "I'm with you 'til the end of the line, right?"  
Steve nods. "Right."  
"Now, lets get you cleaned up."

* * *

 

Church bells ring in the distance, each one a resounding emptiness within Steve.  
"We looked for you after. My folks wanted to give you a ride to the cemetery." Buck trails him up the worn steps, his footfalls heavy, scraping the stone behind him.  
"I know. I'm sorry, it's... Kinda wanted to be alone."  
"How was it?" Bucky's tone is gentle, quiet. Steve feels like he's going to be sick.  
"S'okay. She's next to dad." Afraid tears might start falling if he doesn't snap out of it now, Steve runs a nervous hand through his fringe, blinking hard.  
Bucky exhales slightly. "I was gonna ask-"  
Steve cuts him off. "I know what you're going to say, Buck, it's just..."  _I don't want to be a burden. I don't need your charity. You done enough. What, Rogers? Say something_. Instead, Steve pets at his coat pockets, searching for his key.  
Bucky doesn't take the hint; whether because he misses it, or because he doesn't want to. "We can put the couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids. It'll be fun; all you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash." Bucky turns, kicking at a loose brick set a little way from the door, revealing a tiny, shiny key. "Come on."  
Steve takes it from him, his head bowed. "Thank-you, Buck, but I can get by on my own." The blond raises his eyes to meet Bucky's.  
"The thing is... You don't have to." Bucky's tone has changed, adopting that rare tenderness that Steve both loves and hates; loves, because its so gentle; hates, because it's so  _un-Bucky_. The taller man puts a hand on Steve's shoulder, weighing him down a little and looking him right in the eyes. "I'm with you to the end of the line, pal."  
Steve tries to say something, but the words won't come. Instead, he blinks up at Bucky, giving him the tiniest of smiles.  _I know_.

* * *

 

"End of the line, Steve." Bucky ducks down, a hand falling to his friend's shoulder. Steve tears his eyes from his sketchbook, the bliss of a drowned out world slipping away. The space around him becomes more and more vivid as he's drawn from his 'art-trance' as his friend calls it, Bucky coming into focus once again.  
"Oh."  
"Watcha drawing, anyway?" Bucky tilts, his neck craning to catch a glimpse of Steve's sketch.  
Steve, in turn, tucks his book close to his chest, stuffing his pencils back in his pocket. "Uh-uh, no way, Buck."  
The brunette pouts but says no more, helping his friend gather his things and step off the train, making sure he doesn't trip on the dip down to the platform.  
"D'ya think I should give it a shot this time, Buck? I think- I think I might get lucky this time." Steve murmurs hopefully.  
Bucky glances sideways at him, a concerned frown wrinkling his brow. "Steve, you've already tried, there's no use. You're better off here, pal. We need guys to stick around home, help out on this front. Besides," He grins and nudges Steve with his elbow. "With all the fellas gone, you might finally get yourself a girl."  
Steve's expression darkens. "I don't want a girl, Bucky. I want to serve."  
Bucky's grin slips away. "I know, Steve. I know."  
Steve heaves a sigh, rolling his shoulders. "So, you ready for this?"  
Barnes looks at the registration tents set up a little way away, officers and young men milling around. "Yeah." _No_.

* * *

 

The camp looms up ahead. Never have the muddy barricades and trampled fields looked so beautiful; to Steve, they might as well be the gates to Heaven. His eyes slide to their left, Bucky walking beside him with a slight limp and a firm expression.  
"Hey, Bucky." Steve says, uncertain as to why; there's nothing he really wants to tell his friend.   
Bucky blinks up at him-  _up_ , Steve'll never get used to that. "Yeah, Steve?"  
Steve shoots a glance over his shoulder, the freed men of the 107th snaking their way down the path behind them; battered and beaten, but alive. Steve is glad to have saved them, for sure. But they weren't his mission, his true goal. The real reason he dived right into that enemy camp, no experience under his belt and one flimsy shield in hand, was James Buchanan Barnes.  
And, by the grace of God, he's here beside him, the way it was always meant to be. Two boys from Brooklyn; Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.  
"Nothing, just..." Steve smiles. "I'm with you 'til the end of the line."  
There's a pause and Steve looks to his friend, Bucky looks back, not saying anything. He heard him, and that's all Steve really needs. They trade smiles as they enter the camp; just one private exchange at the beginning of the end.

* * *

 

Bucky coughs, wet and choking; his breath comes out wheezed and thin. Steve grasps his hand tighter, biting back the tears threatening to spill. "C'mon, Buck. C'mon."  
Bucky's eyes flicker, his sweaty forehead glistening in the dim light of the oil lamp. The bitter wind howls outside their tent, the rest of the Commandos shouting out to each other in the dark. The radios are down, the interference too great. Steve curses the storm; now, of all times.  
Buck coughs again and his hand tenses between Steve's palms. His eyes flicker, then crack open.  
"Steve?" He asks, his voice gravelly.  
"Yeah, yeah, Buck. S'okay, I'm here."  
"Hurts." Steve glances at the weak, staggering rise and fall of Bucky's chest. Why did he have to get sick now? It was always Steve who got sick, not Bucky. Never Bucky.   
"I know, Buck. I know. It's going to be okay, okay? I'm here, and I'm not leaving." He squeezes Bucky's hand. "I'm with you 'til the end of the line, remember?"  
"I remember."

* * *

 

The icy breeze whips their hair about, dark strands falling in Bucky's eyes. The pair stand on the tip of a mountain, bare and exposed to the glacier's elemental rage. The Commandos go over the action plan, but Bucky isn't listening. He's looking at Steve; taking in the tinge of pink around his frost-bitten nose, the flop of his hair in the wind, the sharp angles of his new body, the way the blue of his uniform brings out his eyes. The chug of the train is heard long before it's visible, and Bucky follows Steve's gaze out across the mountains, through the snow and into the foggy horizon.   
"I'm with you 'til the end of the line, Steve."  
Steve doesn't look at him, but he does shift his weight to lean ever-so-slightly towards his best friend.  _Me, too_.

* * *

 

The smell of ash and gunpowder and ruins taints the air. The burn of liquor does nothing to fill the emptiness within Steve, drown out the silence. There's an empty space beside him that'll never be filled. There is alcohol in his system that won't poison him, and tears that won't stop streaming down his cheeks and a heart that just won't stop beating. There's also a standard issue pistol on his thigh.  
It'd be so easy.  
He can hear the click-clack of Peggy's heals on the cobblestones.   
It'd be so easy.  
"Damn it, James." Steve chokes. "I thought you were with me 'til the end of the line."

* * *

 

There's nothing. The clouds above, the icy wasteland below. It's all so white and empty, and Steve can't help but see the cruel irony. The ship jostles breath him, jolting as he bumps over the air currents. Peggy's crying and he hates the sound; because Peggy never cries, and neither did Bucky, and it's suddenly all too much.  
"I gotta put her in the water."  
Peggy says something, but Steve's finding it harder and harder to hear.   
_Is this what you felt? Is this what it was like?_  
He's falling, too. He's falling, falling...  
"... Don't be late."  
Right. A date. "You know, I still don't know how to dance." Steve forces himself to sound light hearted- really, he's empty hearted.  
"I'll show you how. Just be there." She sounds so broken. Steve swallows the lump in his throat.  
"We'll have the band play something slow." Steve feels guilt crush him; such heavy, heavy guilt. A captain goes down with his ship, everyone knows that, so why is this so hard?  
_Because he's not here with you_.  
He will be soon.  
"'Til the end of the line, Buck." He practically mouths. The ice is racing up to meet him, now. Peggy's soft gasps break the deafening silence.   
"I'd hate to step on your-" The white engulfs him and the silences consumes him and the last thing Steve sees is Peggy's red lips and Bucky's smiling face in his mind's eye.

* * *

 

The Winter Soldier brings his fist down on his target again and again, the metallic clang and cool numbness of his hand obscuring the sensation of cracking skin and swelling flesh, the blood smeared across his knuckles undetectable. The target doesn't move, doesn't even try to stop him; why? This man- this _captain_ \- is more than capable of putting up a fair fight- so why doesn't he?   
It doesn't matter. The Soldier will complete his mission. The Soldier will kill the Captain.  
He will.  
He will...  
"YOU'RE. MY. MISSION." He accentuates each word with a hefty blow, but it feels more like he's beating himself. There's something within him, something buried deep. Something nagging at him, screaming at him. Something muted and numb and buried so deep in the recess of his mind he can't find it, can't pick at it, pull it out. The Soldier hesitates- why does he hesitate?  
"Then finish it." The Captain croaks. The Soldier looks at him, forces himself to look at him. He's defaced, ugly bruises swelling his face, one eye so puffy it's sealed shut, lip cut deep at the corner. He looks in pain, yet there's nothing but a still, tranquil sadness in his expression. He wears the face of a man broken beyond the physical, clinging to their last strands of hope. A man who knows his thread is nearly cut, and is just praying that the fall won't be too far. The Soldier raises his fist. The man speaks. "'Cause I'm with you to the end of the line."  
The Soldier's world crashes down around him. The man falls.  
He follows him.

* * *

 

Bucky Barnes has long since given up on trying to wriggle free from the machine. He's trapped like a caged animal- a situation that once would have terrified him, but not anymore. He's too much of a mess to care.  
Part of him hopes the Captain- Steve- will find him. Part of him doesn't care who does. He's weak, exhausted; whoever's out there looking for him better find him soon.  
Footsteps, two pairs.  
_So not Steve_. Bucky's heart clenches in his chest; forget what he'd thought, maybe he did want Steve to find him after all. He doesn't look up, doesn't dare face his end. He remains slackened, dismally pressing against the machine with no real conviction, metal arm trapped, waiting for his end.  
"Buck?" Wait- that voice? It's familiar. It's familiar. It's...   
Bucky looks up.  
"Do you remember me?"  
It's Steve. It is Steve. It's Steve, it's Steve. Steve, Steve, _Steve_.  
Words find there way out of Bucky's mouth through the haze. "Your mom's name was Sarah." Something light and tingly flutters in his chest. Bucky recognises the feeling as joy, hope. He doesn't know why he's saying this, because he remembers? Yes. Because he remembers it all, all the little details. He remembers his Steve. "You used to wear newspapers in you shoes." A small smile tugs at his lips.  
Steve looks torn between crying and smiling, a flicker of some unreadable emotion raising his eyebrows and softening his expression. Bucky doesn't know who the other man is; he recognises him from... The _Soldier_ recognises him, but he doesn't know him.  
He doesn't care.  
"And," He says, a full smile creeping across his face as he meets Steve's eyes. "You're with me 'til the end of the line."  
Steve gasps, lower lip trembling. He nods his head, taking a step forward. "I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

**Author's Note:**

> Join me at http://scribblesnsquiggles.tumblr.com


End file.
